


You Knew It Was Me

by Rachiepoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Insanity, M/M, Obsessive Harry, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerful Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachiepoo/pseuds/Rachiepoo
Summary: It's been 10 years since his trial, and 9 years since Draco Malfoy was pronounced dead. Apparently he died in Azkaban from not eating, or so the Prophet has led everyone to believe.





	1. Chapter 1

It ended in the courtroom.  It was the last time I saw him.  He looked just like a boy; his frame was smaller than any of the others brought in and his leg bounced nervously as he waited for his sentence.  His head was bowed, platinum blonde hair hiding his silver gaze from the rest of the room.  He was wearing a plain white shirt, so casual from his normal wear, and his trousers were worn at the knees, dirty.  Like the rest of his family, he had been taken swiftly after the war and held in custody till it was time for a proper hearing.  And now here he was, shackled to the wooden chair by magical bonds, his mark displayed as black as night.  Then the head councilman began to speak and I could see just a fraction of the Slytherin's lip begin to quiver. 

"Given our newly enacted Post-War legislation on prior Death Eaters, we have no choice but to go through with it.  Regardless of his age at the time of his crimes, he will be  tried as an adult and sentenced to life in Azkaban--" 

"WAIT," I shouted, without even thinking.  This couldn't happen.  Yes, I may have not been fond of him before, but I never wanted him imprisoned or anything.  He was just a teenager, just like me.  He had his whole life ahead of him. 

"Mr. Potter, if you wish to express your concern please do so after the trial.  This is highly uncalled for," the man huffed at his podium.  He was about to strike his gavel when I interrupted him again. 

"No! What's uncalled for is putting a kid in that awful place!  He had no choice but to become one of them.  He would have been killed otherwise.  Can't you all see that?!"  At this point I'm standing in my seat, and I have the attention of the whole Wizengamot.  I continue, "He could have turned me in at one point, Voldemort could have killed me right then and there.  His wand helped me defeat Voldemort in the end.  Without Draco Malfoy we'd all be dead!" 

There's several people gasping in shock, either from my  use of Voldemort's name or the blunt truth to my statement.  I have not once told the rest of the world _how_ I killed Voldemort, so the news could shock anyone, I suppose.  The audience is muttering in excitement now, shifting restlessly in their seats to get a better look at the young man seated in the center of the courtroom.  I look at him as well, and it is at this moment he moves his head up.  His eyes meet mine instinctually, no hesitation, as if he's known all along I was here, and exactly where I was seated in this crowded courtroom.  And perhaps he does know,  because we've had plenty of practice from the years we glanced at each other across the Great Hall.  We could find each other in a sea of thousands.  There would be no mistaking that hair, those silver eyes, that sharp chin. 

"Quiet! Quiet!" Shouts the Chief Warlock, his voice now booming from the effects of a Sonorous.  A hush falls around the room and I stare at him critically.  I watch carefully as he speaks again, "Be that as it may, Mr. Potter—we have no choice.  His fate has been decided.  Life in Azkaban."   

He bangs the gavel as I launch myself across the room, pushing through two rows of people.  "NO!" I shout, running to Malfoy.  And when I get close enough, I see his face clearly.  Malfoy's lip is quivering, more pronounced now, and tears are streaming down his face.  He's not looking at anyone but me, and my heart has sunk deep into my navel and I'm feeling sick.  The room is spinning. 

I hear his voice cry out, "Potter!" I'm a foot away from him, and I can vaguely sense someone trying to pull me back.  My sheer force of will is holding me in place.  I reach for him and in that instant he is forcefully apparated out of the courtroom. 

The minute he disappears, I can't remember what happens next.  The lights dim, my magic is swelling in rage and wordlessly I remember knocking back several people as I storm out of the room.  There may have been a few windows that shattered as I walked past them, but I don't know.  My thoughts were on him and him alone.

 

* * *

 

 

It's been 10 years since his trial, and 9 years since Draco Malfoy was pronounced dead.  Apparently he died in Azkaban from not eating, or so the Prophet has led everyone to believe.  When the article first came out, I truly was wrecked and even withdrew from Ginny for over a month trying to get over it all.  She couldn't understand why I was so bothered by him dying when I lost so many others that were closer to me.  But then again, she wouldn't understand.  No one really had the connection to him like I did.  He saved my life,  and I his.  That day in the courtroom I felt like I failed him.  I was supposed to be the hero, the "Chosen One" as many liked to call me.  And I couldn't even save him—not that time anyway. 

I try not to dwell on him and most days I get on just fine.  But certainly there are other days that are harder on me.  It's not like I don't mourn the loss of others.  My heart aches just like the rest over Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dumbledore—the list goes on.  But for some reason when I think of Malfoy my chest seizes up and I have a hard time trying to catch my breath for a moment or two. 

Then there are the times where I think I see him in a crowd of people.  Hermione says it's entirely normal to hallucinate when one has post traumatic stress.  And perhaps that is what's going on.  I honestly haven't taken the time to really think much on my mental condition.  Instead of getting my mind checked out, I delved into my budding career.  The moment I could, I started Auror training.  I wanted to have an influence in Magical Law Enforcement so that the shit that happened to Malfoy couldn’t happen to others. 

It was a couple years ago before I could finally overturn the barbaric law on Death Eaters.  I was able to provide evidence to the Wizengamot that some followers were forced to take the Mark, either through torture or Imperius and a lot of them could not be accounted for their actions.  That still didn't mean we weren't putting Death Eaters in prison, it just allowed every witch or wizard to have a fair trial for their actions regardless of the Mark on their skin.  I like to think Draco would have been proud of what I had accomplished, and how I was able to change people's biases.  That day we overturned the Death Eater legislation, I swear I saw him as I was leaving the courtroom.  His silver eyes shone, his lips turned to a knowing smirk—almost smile.  I couldn't help it and smiled back at him, and when I blinked he was gone. 

He visits me somewhat frequently after that.  I see him in my unconscious and conscious mind about equally.  In my dreams,  we are reliving our childhood, playing Quidditch, yelling at each other from across the Great Hall.  And then there's the one dream that's rather alarming, where we are throwing punches and tackling each other—and then, well, we are _not._   He'll raise his hand as if to punch me across the face, but instead he grabs my hair and pulls me in, roughly.  His grey eyes lock onto mine and the look he gives me is fire.  I know what he wants, and the scary part is I know what I want too.  He will lean in, his lips barely touching mine, his lips tender and deliciously innocent yet sinful at the same time.  And he'll tilt his sharp jaw, open his mouth wider to deepen our kiss—and I'll wake up.  I'm always breathing heavy, tangled up in the sheets and painfully hard. 

I take a cold shower after that dream.  But after the 4th repeat I succumb and touch myself feverishly under the blankets.  I come fast, hard, and I lay there in a dazed heap for a moment.  If it takes me long to recover from my post-orgasmic bliss it's simply because I haven't had it in awhile.  It is not because of the intense thoughts that led up to my climax, definitely not.   

I decide to try dating again, simply for the fact that this can't be healthy. 

Ginny and I fell out years prior, and her reason for breaking it off was that I seemed "distant" and couldn't provide the attention she desired.  Honestly, with all the criminals I had to track down on a daily basis, this shouldn't have came as a surprise to her, but oh well.  From there,  I really didn't get too involved with anyone else.  When I felt inclined, I would pick someone up—man or woman, it didn't really matter.  But I certainly had a type, particularly if they had blonde hair or a snarky attitude.  In retrospect,  I probably should have realized it sooner. 

"You're obsessed, mate," Ron shouts over the loud music, leaning in to me at the bar.  We've just solved a case that had been an ongoing investigation for almost 6 months now, and we're out here celebrating.  I roll my eyes at his words, because he's been saying this for over a decade now and things aren't going to change just like that. 

I bring my gaze back to the man across the room that's caught my attention.  Yes,  he is remarkably familiar.  His hair is light (probably bleached) and he's wearing Posh clothes—if only he could turn around so I could see his face.  

Ron groans next to me and starts to get up.  "Seriously, Harry, I didn't come here so you could pick up Draco Malfoy #34.  I'm gonna go home if all you're going to do is this!"  He chugs the last of his pint and slams  it on the countertop.  The noise jolts me out of my reverie. 

"Wait, don't go," I say, bringing my gaze back to my friend.  I grab his arm and pull him back down on his barstool.  He sighs,  crossing his arms in defiance and I add, "And I'm not obsessed!  Look, let's have a good time, all right?" 

"No, Harry.  I just know you.  I know you are dying to look back over there and see if that guy is still there.  And I know the moment I leave you'll try to hook up with him.  So let's skip all that and just do what you do."  He's standing up again and grabbing his cloak that was draped across the back of the seat.  He swings it around his shoulders and adds, "Just promise me something, ok?  Tell me you've really considered Hermione's advice on seeing a Mind Healer." 

"I'm not crazy, Ron." 

"Right...of course not," he sighs, turning away from me and leaves shortly after. 

My eyes find the man a minute later.  He's heading for the bathroom down the hall, but not before he throws a wink my way.  Not even a second goes by before I'm following after him, and the instant I open the bathroom door he's on me.  His lips are harsh and chapped, but he tastes deliciously of fruity drinks and smells of expensive leather.  "Mmm you are so fucking hot," he moans into my mouth.  He's got an accent...he's American.  Then upon closer inspection of his hair I can see darker roots—so bleached it is.  Somehow, I can't help but feel the disappointment amidst all of it.   

"Let's get in the stall," he suggests into my ear.  Someone has just walked into the loo, and I let him pull me along.  The American locks our door and is back on me, fumbling with my belt as he sucks furiously at my neck.  Despite my earlier assessment, the man is still a fine kisser and perhaps we will go home together tonight after all.   

He's quick with his hands and is starting to stroke me with one.  I'm turning into a panting mess and it is at this moment he moves his other hand to my neck.  He starts to apply pressure, to choke me.  I go still, instantly on alert.  I have only a few seconds to decide my next course of action.   

The first thought that went through my mind was this man could very well be a muggle.  Ron and I went to a muggle bar, so any sort of magic I could perform in this moment would be going against several different laws.  The second thought I realized was that I had tucked my wand into my ankle holster and given my current position I couldn't really reach it without trying to struggle out of his grip.  Then, the third thought I had was this guy could just be pretty kinky.  It's not like I haven't heard about the pleasures of asphyxiation.  This was just not something I particularly wanted to do with a stranger in a bathroom stall. 

And as my mind was trying to figure what to do, his grip tightened both on my cock and neck.  I grunted helplessly, the blood rushing to my head.  Just when I couldn't take anymore, I heard a crash and the American had let go.  My vision had gone dark, but the light was gradually coming back to me and I saw the man lying face down on the bathroom floor and he was knocked out.  A taller man in a black long overcoat was over him,  handcuffing his hands behind his back.  He had long brown hair,  tied into a ponytail, and his focus was entirely on the man on the floor.   

He worked quickly and without a word, binding the man.  Then with barely any effort at all he lifted the guy and pulled him roughly to his feet.  The man turned away from me, as if making his way out.  Before he could leave though I called after him, "Wait...um, sir." 

The man turned, his cloak furling.  His face held no expression as he looked at me, waiting for me to say the next word.  I asked him the first thing that came to mind, "Where are you taking him?" 

"None of your concern," grunted out the man, his head shaking slightly.  That movement alone allowed a shimmer to catch my eye from under the lights in the bathroom.  I'd seen that effect so many times, there could be no mistaking for what it was. 

"You're....you're a wizard," I said quietly.  His brown eyes widened at the accusation, but then he quickly schooled his features to remain neutral.  Something just wasn't right here.  "You're...wearing a glamour," I concluded. 

"Nonsense," he waved me off.  I could tell he was trying to make it to the door.  I stepped in front of him, and he huffed in irritation. 

"Who are you?" I demand, eying him critically.  I cross my arms across my chest and try to take up as much space in the small bathroom as I can, effectively blocking his exit. 

He's glaring at me now, his brown eyes darkening to practically black.  I can feel his anger building, his magic almost suffocating.  The light flickers above us, and on instinct I hold out my hand, preparing to use what limited wandless magic I can in this moment.  There's no mistaking that I would have felt a little bit better if I had the time to bend down and retrieve my wand from my ankle.   

"Move," he growls.  His voice is so threatening that even the most entry level Auror would have cowered.  But I'm a far cry from that.  I'm Harry bloody Potter, for Merlin's sake.  I've faced death more times than I'm even aware and a weird man in a black cloak isn't going to scare me away.  Despite his efforts, I stand my ground, not moving an inch. 

Scowling, his nostrils flare and he's breathing in slowly, raggedly.  He closes his eyes for a minute, and I know I'm testing his patience.  But somehow I feel it is important I know the man behind the disguise.  After all he did save me from the choking American.  And where's he taking that guy anyway?  Is he going to kill him and dispose of the body?  And why does it matter so much in the first place?  Shouldn't I be helping him take the man into custody instead of hindering him?  The guy did practically kill me. 

And well, he would have also given me one of the best orgasms of my life too. 

Which was cut short due to said scary man now glaring daggers my way.  I return the glare with as much malice as I can and that seems to trigger him into further action. 

He doesn't even lift his fingers--doesn't even mutter the spell.  I feel the rage spilling out from him and the next second I'm pinned against the wall of the bathroom.  Magical chains are conjured out of nowhere and hook around my wrists.  I try to push away from the wall, only to find my feet stuck to the grimy tiles of the bathroom floor.   

Jerking my head up, my mouth falls open in shock of its own accord.  I have never felt magic of this magnitude with so little effort—I'm stunned speechless.  He turns away from me, snorting over his shoulder and returns his attention to the unconscious man.  He hauls the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and faces me again.  "You'll be released after I make it to the apparation point around back." 

The man is making his way to the door.  I have to stop him, I have to know...everything.  But my voice can only manage certain fragments, as I'm still very much in shock.  "Who...what?  Where...?" 

Highly amused, he chuckles.  And at this point he does stop at the door and gives me a once over.  His brown eyes rake over my whole being and I feel jolted through all of my nerves.  My heart rate accelerates as I feel his magic wash over me.  He's checking me out—both with those intense eyes and a wordless spell I've felt one too many times by nurses at St. Mungo's.  He's making sure I'm ok—for whatever reason, I'm not sure. 

Those brown eyes make a trail from my eyes, neck, chest, and finally stop at my crotch with no shame.  It's at this moment I'm very well aware that I haven't even zipped myself up.  To make matters worse, the longer the man stares, the harder my cock begins to grow.  I feel like all he'd have to do would be to look at me the right way, and I'd be a trembling mess within a second.  That thought alone makes me throb painfully, and I bite back a moan from my lips. 

The moment's interrupted as a knock is heard on the other side of the bathroom door.  Apparently the man had wandlessly locked the room throughout all this too, and his eyes move off my body and towards the noise.  He groans in irritation and then waves a finger my way—I feel my pants begin to zip up and carefully tuck myself away.   

"Can't have that, now can we?" He asks, highly amused.  "Don't want all of London seeing what Potter's packing." 

I feel my cheeks flame and know the blush upon my face has reached the tips of my ears.  He's looking at his handiwork at my trousers, checking to make sure I'm fully concealed and, well, it's torture.  I don't know why this man is having such an effect on me, but perhaps it's due to the situation he found me in.  Or maybe the intensely powerful magic he has me under.  Or maybe it's a little bit of both.  Either way, his eyes feel like they are killing me and I want him to stop staring at my erection or do something about it! 

Smirking, he finally lifts his eyes to meet mine.  His hand is on the door and I see the glimmer around his features fade for a moment.  His brown eyes turn lighter—much lighter.  I feel my heart stammer, because there's no mistaking this.  I've seen those eyes more times than I'm even aware, and the color may be a dull grey.  But Draco's eyes are anything but dull. 

"Wait!" I call back, just as he wrenches open the door free.  If he hears my call, he chooses to ignore it and instead dashes out of the room with the American in tow.  True to his words, I'm free from his bonds moments later.  But I'm not free from the thoughts he's now left me with. 

And as I lay in bed that night, I know it had to have been him.  My heart didn't want to consider any other reality in which Draco Malfoy truly was dead.  He couldn't be dead.  I would not accept that—even if I saw his body myself. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next time I saw him, Ron and I were chasing a known murderer through a field.  It was rather strange, really, how we even came to be in the field to begin with.  We were scheduled a  Portkey for our annual meeting in Scotland in regards to new Auror technology.  Then with a sudden lurch, we weren't where we were supposed to be at all.  In our confusion, the man, Bradley Thomas, took the opportunity to throw several hexes our way and unsuccessfully tried to disarm us.   

We find a ditch to hide in, but as I'm pulling Ron down with me, a spell hits him in the back of the head and he's disoriented.  I'm clutching the front of his robes, and I slap him around the face to bring him back and all he's got is this dazed look upon his face.  "Fuck!" I yell, just as another flash of red light practically hits my arm.  I move us out of the line of sight again, and I can hear his crunching footsteps approaching.  I know I have to get out of this hole soon, because otherwise, we'll be sitting targets.   

Just as I'm about to make a run for it, there's a sudden pop of apparation in front of me.  I look up from my hiding spot and see that same black cloak, flapping wildly in the wind.  The man's arms are outstretched, as if blocking our attacker from myself and Ron.  I can hear the murderer stop in his tracks, staring at the man who's suddenly appeared out of nowhere. 

"Ah, ah, ah.  You don't want to do that," he says to Thomas.  His voice is light, hinting on playfulness.  I'm stunned, because here he is facing one of the most feared criminals this side of the country—and he's taunting him. 

A tense second goes by and then Bradley growls, "Move aside, man.  Potter's MINE!" 

I hear spells being flung from both sides, and a quick scuffle—and then it's oddly quiet.  The confrontation maybe lasted 10 seconds at most.  I cautiously lift my head up to the surface and there is the mystery man, hovering over the limp figure of Bradley Thomas.  He's bent down to retrieve his wand and inspects it curiously before pocketing it.  I feel it's safe to come out and go over to them. 

His hair isn't long and brown anymore, but black like mine, and cut rather short.  His eyes are a startling blue.  Anyone would think this would be a totally different person, but I see the shimmer of his glamour and I felt the power of his magic, and I just _know_. 

"Thanks," I say shyly, studying his new features.  Even in this set of appearances, I can't help but feel an attraction to him.  Hell, Draco Malfoy could be disguised as a woman, and I'm sure I would have the same reaction to him. 

He doesn't respond to my comment, and instead crouches to the ground and pulls out a small box.  He opens it with nimble hands and a whirl of magic comes forth, engulfing our criminal.  It pulls his body inside the box, and with a snap Bradley Thomas is now secured inside.  With that taken care of, he stands up and dusts the dirt from his trousers. 

I don't like the quiet he's treating me with.  I break the silence with the one thought that's been haunting me for weeks.  "I know who you are," I state clearly, with determination.  This comment finally rewards me with his undivided attention.  His blue eyes snap to mine, such in the same way they did back when we were in school.  I've no doubt now that it's him.   

His eyes are the color of deep blue, like ocean water, but with the intensity of a roaring fire.  My throat suddenly feels dry, and I gulp as he takes a step towards me.  "Is that so?" He asks me, and Merlin help me, I can hear the heavily Posh accent in his voice.  I haven't heard that voice in almost 10 years, and my heart has practically given out. 

"Yes," I answer, breathless.  He's now not even a foot away from me, and I'm assaulted with a million images of how I'd like this scenario to play out.  I'm on my knees before him, he's on his knees, I'll bend over for him, or him me.  It doesn't matter as long as something of that nature happens and of course, my pants can't help but tighten. 

It's as if he's reading my mind, and now that I really think about it—he probably is.  Because the next second he looks down and smiles coyly.  And fuck it, if that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever seen.  "You've got quite the imagination, Potter," he teases, stepping even closer to me.  His chest is pressing against mine, and the heat from his body is practically burning into me.  I let out a pathetic whimper, a sound I've never let out before in my whole life.  I'm Harry Potter, the "hero" of this story, and yet this man has reduced me to this. 

Leaning over, he whispers in my ear, "But am I really who you think I am?  Or just a figment of your imagination?"  His breath is warm and ghosts over the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.  It's taking all of my willpower to not turn this situation around and pounce on him in this very moment.  "After all," he continues, "I look nothing like the man you wish for—the men you bring home on occasion." 

I can feel him start to break away from me, and quickly I grab him by the arm and hold him in place.  I definitely don't want him to leave.  I've spent too much time thinking of him and now that I have him I don't want to let go.  "You could have black hair, brown, red, or no hair at all.  It doesn't matter because I can see past that.  I know who you are.  It's you...it's always been you." 

"How can you be so sure?" He asks cautiously, searching my face.  And now I can see the history there, the same helpless look he gave me all those years ago in the courtroom.   

I close in on him again, this time moving my hand up.  "Let's just say, right now...I'm going to touch your face.  Your glamour has given you a nicely rounded face—but I know the moment I touch your jaw and chin, it'll be sharp.  Your face has always been pointy and defined.  So just let me..." 

"No," He rejects, quickly stepping away from me before my fingers can make contact.  I've struck a nerve and he's turned away from me—trying to keep his mask in play.  I don't know why he's so inclined to keep his identity secret.  It's only us and Ron is still pretty knocked out of it.  It's not like I don't know who he is.  It's really become apparent now. 

"Draco," I mutter, trying to reach for him again.  My hand just lightly brushes his shoulder as I try to pull him back.   

He shrugs my touch off violently.  The wind picks up, flapping his cloak harshly.  Despite the roar of the air rushing past, I can still hear him pronounce, "Draco died ten years ago, Potter.  You have no idea who I am."  Then I feel his magic pull inside him and just like he appeared moments before, he vanishes just as abruptly.   

 

* * *

 

"So, tell me about these dreams you are having again..."  

I'm feeling my anger start to bubble to the surface and I can't help but bark back, "For the last time, they are not dreams.  These things actually happened!"   

My therapist is across from me, with an eyebrow raised.  She's finally moved her attention away from her clipboard, and has met my eyes.  "Ok, Mr. Potter," she begins, crossing her legs as she shifts in her leather chair.  "So you believe someone can possess such strong wandless magic that even made He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named seemed like child's play?  And then, to top it all off, you believe this person to be none other than Draco Malfoy?  The young Death Eater that died in Azkaban years ago?" 

"Don't call him that," I threaten, my hands gripping my knees to keep from lashing out.  My nose is flared, and I'm breathing in raggedly and I'm at the point of seeing red.  Her water glass beside her chair shatters from the magic I'm trying to keep under control. 

She jumps back in alarm, but when she looks at my expression again she tries to remain unfazed.  Wisely, she picks another question not related to "dreams" to try and cool me off.  "So, what do you think of Draco Malfoy?  I heard in school you guys had quite a history..." 

Taking a deep breath seems to help calm me.  Then I answer her, "Oh, well we hated each other in school.  And then it sort of became complicated during the War..."  She urges me to continue and I explain the story everyone's heard by now.  How he neglected to turn me in at the Manor, how his mother lied about my death right to Voldemort's face.  How I saved him through the Fiendfrye.  How I couldn't save him at his trial. 

"I see," she hums thoughtfully, writing a few more notes on her parchment.  Then, "Did you have any other stronger feelings for him besides hatred?" 

My mind can't help the images that start to slowly form.  Ever since Draco found me in that bathroom, the dreams have started showing up more and more frequently.  They are more vivid, more intense—and oh, how simple it would have been if back at Hogwarts I could have just pulled him aside and kissed him the way I've been wanting to all along.  I could have clung to him a little longer after I pulled him out of the fire, I could have held him as he cried in front of that sink and mirror, I could have shook his hand...so many missed opportunities-- 

"Mr. Potter?" 

"Yes," I answer.   

 

* * *

 

I guess one must truly be crazy to put yourself in danger just in the hopes the person you want to see will show up and come rescue you.  But, that's how he finds me next.  I'm pinned against a dark alley, just outside the back door of a notorious club that a lot of my targets tend to venture to for their intel.  The wizard that's got me seems to be more than just interested in killing me.  He's running his hands down the front of my shirt, past my belt and he gropes me roughly.  I'm instantly disgusted, but I try to refrain from fighting back.  He has to show up first.  I just know he will. 

Just as the filthy man is about to pull my pants down, there's a loud crash that knocks both of us down to the ground.  My head hits the pavement hard and I wince.  I turn my neck and my attacker is trying to stumble back up onto his feet.   

Draco pops up next to him, and kicks him back down to the ground.  His heavy boot is digging into the man's chest, same cloak waving out from behind him as he moves.  Once he's sure the man under him can't go anywhere, he gives me a once over.  I take in his new look, and my breath catches. 

His hair is blonde.  Not nearly the same platinum shade I'm accustomed to, but it's more golden.  And his eyes are the same deep blue they were the last time I've seen him.  He's utterly gorgeous,  and this is the closest he's looked to himself that I'm rather taken aback.   

Suddenly there's movement, and the man on the ground has reached into his pocket and withdrew a knife.  Draco backs off for a moment and dodges a lunge with very little effort.  I blink and he's managed to apparate behind the man, the knife summoned so quickly I didn't even notice.  It's in his hand now, pressed warningly against the man's neck.   

"I should kill you right now, you bastard," he growls.  And even this threat shouldn't give me this reaction, but I can't help how immensely turned on I am right now. 

"P-please," begs the man.  

The knife grazes his neck and a trickle of blood starts to run down his skin.  Draco doesn't back down.  "I'm not supposed to kill you for another week, but Potter has gone and ruined things again.  So let's just cut to the chase, shall we.  Who's your source?" 

My admiration comes to a screeching halt.  His source?! Just what is he playing at?  So this whole time he was rescuing me...he was actually working on some sort of case?  Is Draco an Auror like me?  This just didn't make any sense at all!   

And as my imagination tried to put all the pieces together, Draco manages to get a mumbled confession out of the man.  He smirks down at him and then says, "Thanks.  But you really shouldn't have tried to rape Potter just now.  You've gone and made me angry.  Sorry, man..." 

He cuts the guy's throat and the blood pours down, covering them both.  Draco lets go of his body as it slumps forward on the pavement.  I'm standing there in shock, my mouth agape.  He doesn't look at me as he waves his hand and wordlessly cleans himself of the murder he's just performed in front of me. 

"Y-you....killed someone," I squeak out, when I finally find my voice.  He shrugs, stepping closer to me.  I take a cautious step back.  "Y-you can't just do that!" 

"Harry," he tries to soothe me, reaching for my arm.  I shrug out of his touch. 

"No.  What is wrong with you?!"  I screech.  I realize my voice has raised to quite a level and probably we will be overheard if we're not careful.  But I honestly don't care right now.  I just can't believe he would kill that guy! 

He looks past me, down the alley.  His eyes widen, and he's heard people coming this way before I've even noticed.  Next second he's pressed me up against the wall and wrapped an arm around my waist.  It happens so fast, I can't even react and he's apparating with me in tow.  When we pop into existence again, we are in a dimly lit entranceway.  It's strangely familiar. 

"What!   How can you--"  

"Shush!" He shoves a finger in front of my mouth, and it's then that I notice his face merely inches from my own.  His breaths are coming out ragged, and he's trying to level his breathing. 

I blink stupidly at him, his finger still pressed against my lips.  It's another second before he regains his composure, and pulls his hand away.  He steps away from me and I feel the heat of his body leave mine.  I miss the sensation immediately—even though now I question whether this is right at all.  He's now killed someone, and as an Auror I'm going to have to report him.  I'm going to have to take him in.  And I don't know how I'm going to even do that, given that he could pretty easily get away. 

"We're safe for now," he says, now pulling his black cloak off and drapes it over the umbrella stand.  The same troll-leg umbrella stand I haven't seen in over a decade. 

"Bloody hell," I gasp, and turn my attention to the familiar chandelier and the gas lamps.  The infamous portrait on the wall however, was nothing more than a black stain on the peeling wallpaper.  "How...how the hell are you able to apparate here?" 

He smiles slyly at me, "I've always been able to, Potter.  It's just as much as my home as it is yours."  Walking up to me, I feel his breath on my neck as he approaches.  "Now...I could do with a spot of tea.  Would you like some?" 

I feel him take my hand in his, and he's leading me to the kitchen.  I'm light headed and it's surreal watching the house light up as we walk on by.  A chair is pulled out for me and he goes to the cupboard to retrieve two cups.  He sits across from me a minute later, presents me a steaming cup and smiles over his own.   

My stomach is already in knots as he takes his first sip and sets the tea down.  "Right, so I guess I should tell you everything." 

I almost burn my tongue as I try to down the drink that just threatened to come up.  He smiles and takes that as encouragement enough. 

"So, after my trial....hmmm, how should I put this?"  I'm gaping now, my heart has stopped beating.   He's pretty much confirmed that this whole thing is real, that it actually is him.  It's who I've been hoping it was for all this time. 

 "Right, ok," He continues, thinking on the spot.  "So, let's just say...I didn't really go to Azkaban afterwards." 

"….What?" I ask in disbelief.  I'm so confused and there are honestly no words to convey what I'm thinking right now because I don't even know what to think. 

"Yeah, no Azkaban.  No, really...where I went was...well, at first it was much worse." 


	3. Chapter 3

"It was always dark.  The only light that even filtered through was from a small crack at the bottom of the door.  This same door would only open what was perhaps just once a day.  A masked figure would leave a plate of barely edible food, and then leave shortly after.  And then it would go back to being dark, quiet, with only me and my mind to keep me company. 

To pass the time I would sing, or recite elementary potion recipes—anything to keep my mind occupied.  And I would sleep; I slept a lot actually.  And in my mind when I dreamed, I thought of you.  It was always Harry Potter and those bloody green eyes behind those awful glasses.  I guess it was because your face was the last thing I saw before they took me into the dark.  It's ironic,  really, that the one boy I grew up loathing throughout school would be the one I'd look to for salvation for my sanity. 

The dreams started to take over my reality.  You were in the holding cell with me, now.  You were always so encouraging, telling me to hang on.  That we'd get through this together.  And when I told you I didn't want to fight it anymore, the room started to change. 

I heard a noise.  It was a rushing sound...and then my feet felt cold, wet.  They were sealing up the room with water, and it was slowly rising, engulfing me.  I began to panic, because surely this would be my end.  They were tired of feeding me and just wanted to rid of me for once and for all.  And just as the water level was closing in on the ceiling, with only an inch or so breathing room left, you swam up next to me and whispered in my ear to 'Just do it.' 

And as I succumbed to the water, I knew what you meant.  If this was going to be the last breath I took,  then so be it.  Something cracked in that moment and I knew for once, I wasn't going to go without a fight.  If I was going to die, all right.  I had nothing to fear then, nothing to lose.  I pulled my magic within myself, and I could feel the wards fighting me, trying to contain my power.   

I felt desperate, angry, lonely, hungry, tired, and fifty other emotions I couldn't even fathom to place.  And the intensity of such emotions allowed me to channel a blast of energy that lit up the whole room in a radiant light of hope.  It instantly evaporated the room of its water, the door blasted open and I stood there, panting, breathing, and so very alive.   

I stepped out of my cell and the sunlight assaulted me, and I winced.  It felt like hours before I could fully open my eyes again to check out my surroundings.  I was very fortunate nothing found me in my time of vulnerability.  When I finally came to, I noticed I was in a forest.  The sun was starting to set past the treeline, and the intensity of the sun was muted now.  It was all so very serene, and so beautiful. 

A few days scouting the area and I came to the realization I was stranded on an island.  I tried to call forth my wandless magic to see if I could apparate, but it proved pointless.  I even looked for the figure that had fed me while I was there, but I couldn't seem to find them.  And even though I enjoyed the sun, the trees, the ocean water, I was still very much alone, and I wished for you to return by my side once more." 

It's at this point he's paused, and I'm staring at him in shock.  We've finished our tea for awhile now, and I don't even know where to begin or what to even say to all that.  It's understandable given his imprisonment he would start to hallucinate.  Any person in that situation would.  And as my mind is working through everything he's told me so far, he starts to get up from the kitchen table and takes our cups of tea to the sink.  He turns back to me and takes my hand in his, pulling me to my feet.  His skin is warm against mine, our magic tingling where we are touching as he leads me up the stairs to one of the drawing rooms.  We sit in neighboring armchairs and with a simple look at the fireplace it comes alive with full blown flames. 

He picks up his story. 

"On the 8th day, I went to sleep under a tree.  When I awoke, I was bounded by my ankles and wrists.  Apparently I wasn't as alone as I thought I was, and a native tribe had found me and were planning on roasting me alive.  My body hung on a wooden pike over a fire, and I could feel my ratty clothes practically melting off my skin.  Sweat pooled off me, like another layer to my flesh.  And just when I felt the fire tickling me, I felt another heat within me begin to build.  This time I knew what it was. 

I looked at the fire around me, that was threatening to take me.  Memories of the Fiendfyre haunted me, but I shook it off.  I knew what I had to do, even though I didn't really have the words to do so.  I just _did it_ , like you told me to. 

I put the fire out, without needing the incantation or my wand.  My bonds came loose.  When the natives saw the power that I possessed, they tried to flee and in my anger I set their own huts on fire.  They tried to run from me, but I was faster.  I made rocks smash their heads in, branches come and strangle the others.  I wasn't content till each and every one of them was dead.  If they were the ones that held me captive in that room, they deserved it.  And even if they didn't imprison me, they still needed to die, or else they would have tried to kill me again.  I just knew it. 

That night as I pilfered through their village, I ate like a king.  I sat on their warchief's throne and laughed for I had never felt as alive in my whole life.  I always used to be a coward, couldn't even do the job of killing Dumbledore.  And the first time I actually went and killed someone, I took out their whole clan.  I felt something within me change.  I wasn't going to go back to being the scared boy I was before.  I was going to fight, and nothing was going to stand in my way. 

And then, _she_ showed up.  She appeared out of thin air, popping into existence right in front of me as I was devouring a whole chicken.  I almost choked, she startled me so much.  But she smiled fondly down at me, and for some reason her facial expression calmed me somewhat.  The first words she said to me was, 'Draco Malfoy, you have passed the test.' 

Anger started to pour through me, and I had leapt to my feet.  So this whole thing was merely a test?  Who in their right mind would subject someone to what I had been through?  And I couldn't control it, the frustration was overpowering me.  I was seeing red, I was seething—and I lost control of my magic.  I thrown her across the clearing and slammed her against a tree trunk.  Her head had fallen forward, her long red hair covering her face. 

But then she looked up, her hair parted and I saw the grin she give me widen.  It served to piss me off more, and instinctually I lifted my hands to cast another spell.  She lifted her own hands, and conjured a shield before the fire from my fingertips could reach her.  'Yes, very good....very good, indeed.' She told me, as she countered my spell.  She edged her way back to me, the smile never leaving her face. 

She told me she was here to get me, to take me back to London to finish my training.  Part of me wanted to kill her and get the revenge I craved for because of what they did to me.  But another part of me wanted to return to England, to civilization, and to see just how far this "training" would go.  In the end,  I left with her, and to this day I'm still not sure if I made the right decision." 

He's stopped his narrative now, and I look back at him and my heart stalls.  It's not only from what he's just told me, but he's letting his glamour slip.  His vibrant blue eyes have disappeared, and the silvery grey are in its place, clear as day.  He must have felt my eyes on him, and he moves his own away from the fire to stare right back at me.  He's watching me, waiting.  He wants a response to what I've just indulged in.  I clear my throat in the silence and say, "So, you're a fully trained _super_ _wizard,_ or something?" 

I hear his laughter and it warms me to the core.  It's genuine and I don't think I've ever heard him laugh quite like that at something I ever said to him.  "I guess you could call it that," he smiles, and fuck it's his smile now.  It's his teeth, his sharp chin and jawline.  And God, how could I forget how beautiful he is? 

"But, Harry," he cuts into my train of thought.  "There's more to it than just that..." 

"Hmm?" I'm looking at his hair now, hoping the golden glow of his blonde hair would start to disappear as well, replaced by that platinum color I've always seemed to be searching for. 

"I'm a fully trained _super wizard_ as you like to call it, but I work for the Department of Mysteries.  And, that's just the beginning of it.  I am their top agent, and I only answer to one person—and it's _her._   To this day,  I don't even know her name.  But she gives me my duties and I perform them, no questions asked.  I've done everything under the sun from stealing, planting evidence, killing, persuading people, capturing others.  The list goes on.  But the one rule above all others is that _no one should know_.  And well, now I've just told you..." 

I'm speechless, silently gawking him for what seems like ages.  He turns his eyes back to the fire, letting it all sink in for me.  Then, when I finally can seem to find my voice, I ask the only question that keeps repeating within my mind.  "But...why?"  

"Why you?" He asks me, and I nod in response.  "It's simple, really.  I've been living my life as a disguise for years now.  No one has suspected a thing.  Then the one time I stay back—the one time I linger at an assignment where you happen to be, you notice.  You saw through me when no one else could.  You knew it was me." 

His last sentence hits me, and brings me back to years ago when we were at Hogwarts.  I had told him those same words once before.  Perhaps we always could notice certain things about the other, that no one else would see.  Perhaps we always had an attuned feeling for each other.  Maybe it wasn't really just me and my fantasies.  Perhaps Draco Malfoy was as drawn to me as I've always been to him.  Perhaps he needs me just as much as I've needed him all along.  Perhaps... 

"Potter," His voice derails my thoughts, not because it's the voice I've been dreaming about for who knows how long—but because it's so close now.  He's gotten out of his chair and has knelt in front of me, and oh, how he looks at me in this moment. 

The platinum locks have fallen across his face, illuminated by the roaring fireplace behind him.  The glow reminds me of broomstick rescues and the Room of Requirement, and a scared boy holding onto me, clutching me so hard that it hurts.  I try to gulp, my throat suddenly very dry. 

Tentatively, he moves his hands up to stroke my thighs.  It should be an entirely innocent gesture, soothing—but Draco Malfoy has never had success in soothing my nerves.  I'm instantly on alert, my heart beat so erratic I can hear the pounding within my own ears.  It's as if he can hear my own heart as well, because he gives me a small smile and leans closer.  His hands move teasingly up my thighs, to rest on my chest.  Brushing his lips against my ear, I feel the lick of heat as his words ghost over my skin.  "How long have you wanted this?" He whispers.  I can't help but moan. 

He's reaching for the buttons on my shirt now, slowly slipping them through the holes and it's driving me mad.  I'm still rendered speechless, because if this is a dream, I don't want to ruin it by silly words.  But Draco takes my silence as a good sign and he continues with his own questions.  "Was it 6th year...the year you couldn't leave me alone?"  He pauses, having finished with my buttons and then gives my shirt a swift yank over my head.  Once it's removed, his eyes greedily take me in, and I can't help to flush. 

"Or was it earlier?" He's smirking now, leaning down and I finally feel his lips touch me, scorching me right along my exposed collarbone.  I'm gripping the arm chair on either side and hanging on for dear life, because I know the moment I reach for him he might just disappear.  And I want to prolong this for as long as possible.   

There's a lick from my collarbone, down to the middle of my chest.  My breath hitches, and I can't help but close my eyes at the sensations he's assaulted me with.  "Maybe...second year?  I saw the way you looked at me in my new Quidditch robes."  I groan, as he's found one of my nipples.  He brutally licks and nips at it, and I am so lost in this conversation.  He could tell me the most horrid thing right now, as long as he didn't stop with that wicked tongue. 

"You never could stop staring at me, now could you?  Be it the Great Hall, Potions, or Care of Magical Creatures.  You always had to look at me...see what I was doing."  He's trailing his lips further down my chest, outlining the ridges of muscle along my stomach.  I'm trembling beneath him, arching my back to guide him where I want him the most.  He takes that as an invitation and trails lower, finding a small patch of hair that hides under the waistband of my jeans.  Running a finger underneath the band, I feel his lips turn up into a smile against my skin.  He mumbles, "Who knew, we could have been doing this all along though?" 

I hear my zipper being pulled down, and in the next moment he's pressed his hand against me.  A gasp escapes my lips, my eyes shoot open and I can't help the way I look back down to him.  His silver eyes catch mine, as he takes my cock in his hand, and he's staring with such a ferocious severity that is an image that will forever be burned into my mind.  Just him,  his fingers wrapped around me, and those eyes burning through me, much like the fire that's beginning to roar its flames from behind.  The heat is all consuming, almost...too much.  But still, not enough.   

Till he starts to stroke me.  I whine,  whimper, and my arms are flailing wildly trying to reach for him.  This earns an even brighter grin, and now the cheeky bastard looks at my hands and straps them down to the chair, as simple as breathing.  And did I mention, I'm having a hard time even maintaining that? 

It's those fingers— _Merlin_ his fingers keep up a delicious pace.  They are coated with a wandless lubrication now and any other time I'd ponder on the convenience of it all.  But it's only been a minute...maybe two, and I'm so very close now.  Normally I would be horribly embarrassed that it hasn't taken me that long.  But Draco Malfoy and I have been foreplaying for over fifteen years now and I'm ready to come.  I'm going to. 

"I..." I try to croak out, to warn him.   

"I know," He moves his face up to me.  It takes just one more rough swipe of his thumb across my head and I feel myself lose it.  The minute I do, his lips crash onto mine and he's thrusting his tongue hungrily inside, devouring me and the hot mess he's reduced me to.  I'm moaning helplessly into his mouth, and oh how I wish I had my hands free to hang onto him and his hair.  He releases the bonds not a second later, and I clutch him tightly as I ride out my climax.   

When we finally pull away from the kiss, I'm panting and his breathing mirrors my own.  I'm much too exhausted to even bother moving right now, and I could probably fall asleep right here in this chair.  He chuckles, and pulls me gently to my feet.  I'm leaning into his embrace and with a pop of apparition he's brought us to the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place.  He lays me down and drapes the blanket over me.  Before I can even think about it, he's cast the warming spell on the covers and conjured a glass of water for me that's on the bedside table.   

He holds my hand briefly before kissing it.  I watch with a frown as he turns away and releases me.  With his back to me I hear him say, "I have to go.  But...I'll...I'll come back."  Before I can even question him, he's held out his arm and his cloak comes sailing.  His long black cloak is the last thing I see before he vanishes once more. 


	4. Chapter 4

He's true to his word, and the next day he shows up mid morning as I'm brewing myself some coffee.  Grimmauld Place is surprisingly stocked with a variety of foods and beverages and it really makes me wonder how long he's been staking claim to the house.  Not that I mind in the slightest—even though technically the property belongs to me, I'm really not bothered that he used this place as his own sort of hideaway.  It makes sense for someone that lives his life under a disguise, that this would probably be the best place for him.  After all, there's only a handful of people that even remember this place exists and with the strong blood wards about the property, I've ensured no one can just walk right up to it. 

Well, unless you're Draco fucking Malfoy (who's a Black descendant anyway) and a strong enough wizard he could probably apparate to Mars if he so wished.   

Anyway, he shows up as I'm stirring the sugar in my cup.  He doesn't even greet me in the kitchen, just passes on by and I hear him quickly stomping up the staircase up to the bathroom on the second floor.  Curiosity gets the better of me, and I follow in after him.  I hear running water and he's bent over the sink basin.  I gape silently at his back, because the image brings me back to Hogwarts and Sectusempra, and sure enough he senses my presence and lifts his face to meet my eyes in the reflection of the mirror. 

But instead of a crying boy looking back at me, there stares a man with shadows underneath his eyes and a swollen lip, blood caked at the corner.  Regardless of his injury, he can't seem to fight the smile that's now donned his lips.  His eyes radiate with warmth and it causes a fluttering feeling in the pit of my stomach.  We look at each other through the mirror for what seems like ages, till he finally says, "Hey..." 

"Hey," I can't help my own smile from forming. 

Then it happens so fast.  He whips around to face me fully and then he's pulled me into him and we're kissing and it's intensely perfect, sweet and tender as his tongue tentatively searches for my own.  It's slow,  sensual, as if he's taking the time to memorize every feel of my lips against his, our noses bumping, our chests pressed together, hearts beating to their own rhythm.  His fingers dig deep into my mass of hair and then he starts to tug.  I can't help the moan that escapes my lips. 

He hears it, and pulls away softly.  His silver eyes look through mine intently, taking me all in.  It's almost like he really can't believe it actually is me—that this is indeed reality.  And I get it—I really do.  It's been so long I've thought him dead, and now here he is, in my arms.  I'm just waiting for myself to wake up and find it was all just a dream. 

"Harry..." He struggles to get the word out.  I can tell he's trying to hold back, that he doesn't want to show everything he's feeling in this moment.  But from that one word, my name, and the way he says it, I just know.  I know what he's feeling...because I feel it too. 

It's not long before he's demanding my lips once more, almost as if he's torn between what he wants to tell me and how much he just wants me.  It becomes heated rather quickly, my tongue slipping inside his parted lips, his hands fisting the front of my shirt, pressing me against the doorway—only for me to shove him back along the other wall, but not breaking our kiss.  We push each other back and forth, neither wanting to succumb to the other, both wanting to hold the other down and have our own way. And of course it would be like this.  Draco Malfoy was always so difficult. 

Growling, he pins me once more against the sink now.  Effortlessly he lifts me up and onto the counter, knocking several bottles onto the floor.  His hands and lips are everywhere and in between eager kisses I can hear our pants, the drumming of my pulse, and water running from the faucet that turned on through our little struggle.  He doesn't care though, and his hands slide down to my knees, prying my legs apart.  He's standing in between me now, and fuck, I've been fantasizing about this for years.  Just didn't imagine it playing quite like this, to be honest.     

"Want to fuck you so bad," he moans against my neck, his lips are brutal and I can tell he's going to leave a mark at the spot just behind my ear.  His fingers are tearing at my belt and waistband, and I think there's just entirely too much clothes between us. 

His thoughts seem to mirror my own, because after a futile attempt at the front of my trousers, he just gives up.  In the blink of an eye, we've now apparated back to the bedroom and he's pressing a hand on my now bare chest, pushing me into the mattress.  He leans over me, returning his lips to my own and then I feel the hot press of his entire body against my own.  The sudden sensation of flesh against flesh, flat planes of chest and stomach, and his hard cock rubbing against me is too much and I'm left out of breath, dazed.   

He wastes no time.  The short second I'm still, he's lifting my legs up onto his rounded, taut shoulders.  I stare in wonder as he moves his hands down to me, and the minute I feel him spreading me I jerk slightly, snapping out of it and catch up to what's about to happen.  "Didn't think you'd be so submissive," he smirks as he runs a finger in between my cheeks, searching. 

His comment provokes something wild and animalistic in me.   Or perhaps it's just in my nature to accept any challenge Malfoy brings my way.  Either way, I can't help what I end up doing next.  I apparate out from under him, to reappear behind him.  It happens so fast, he's stunned and I take the opportunity to shove him face first on the bed.  I grab him roughly around the waist, pulling his deliciously shaped arse into me.   

That's when I hear him.  He's laughing—genuinely laughing.  It's not condescending in the slightest, because I've heard that laugh from him all too many times.  It's a cute sound,  and I can't help the own smile that's started to crack on my face.  I lean over and give him a fond kiss along his shoulder blade and he shudders underneath me from the contact.  Then he turns under me, laying his back down onto the bed and his silver eyes meet mine. 

"So you want to fuck me?" He asks coyly. 

"Yes," I answer, not breaking eye contact.  Somehow, I want nothing more than for our first time to be me inside him.  Sure, I've imagined both scenarios in great detail over the course of the years—but now, in this moment I need this.  In a way, it's like I've always wanted to find out more about him, see what he was up to, what he was thinking.  For me to be able to be as close to him as I possibly can...yeah, I wanted nothing else. 

"Ok," He agrees.   

It's almost too simple.  I blink at him and then throw his words back at him.  "Really?  Didn't think you'd be so submissive." 

He grins, pulling me in for a hungry kiss that leaves me breathless.  When we part he says to me, "I think I can take anything you throw my way."   

Clearly he knows exactly what he's doing, because his words spur me to action.  I'll show him just what I can dish out!  And I don't know why we're still playing this silly game, but I grab him roughly, and I'm spreading him open.  When my fingers find his hole he's already slick with lube and it makes my throat go dry.  "You're really wet for me," I comment, as I begin to finger him. 

"Mmmms...charm I know," he moans, arching his body to take in more of my fingers.  My eyes widen at the image he's given me and Merlin, now I'm _really_ worried I'm not going to be able to hold out for long.  How is it even when he's about to take my cock he still can have so much power? 

He lets out a breathless little chuckle and then mumbles, "S'ok...just fuck me...god, fuck me right now."  And now the bastard had just read my mind.  If I wasn't so turned on and on the verge of coming just from fingering his tight arse, I might have even been a little bit annoyed.  But it's Malfoy, and if he's not annoying me then something's wrong...and nothing could be wrong about any of this.  I decide I can't wait much more, withdraw my two fingers and line myself up. 

"Say please," I can't help but add. 

He flashes a glare, and my heart skips a beat at the familiar expression.  Then his legs wrap around me, pulling us closer together.  He tugs my hair, mashing our lips together once more and he nips at my bottom lip, making sure to grind his lower body against mine in such a way that is driving me wild.  Finally, at last he reluctantly says, "Fine... _please_ fuck me.  Because I swear to fucking Merlin if you don't fuck me in the next 5 seconds I will turn this around and cuff you to the bed and do it myself!" 

I bite back a laugh and I plunge forward, thrusting into him with ease.  And any thoughts I've had prior have been wiped clean and all I can focus on is the tight all consuming heat that is Draco Malfoy.  I take in several deep breaths, trying to ease myself down because this feels too good and way better than any fantasy I ever had.  Thankfully, Draco's aware of the internal struggle I'm having and he lays there patiently, panting and adjusting to my length.   

At last, I can finally start to move once more.  And when I start to pull back out, I'm rewarded with the most beautiful sound from the other man.  It's between a moan and whimper and when I push back into him, it's louder.  After the third or fourth time, his hands are trembling as he grips onto my back.  I can feel the dull burn as his nails dig into my skin.   

We move together for what seems like hours, but perhaps wasn't that long.  He meets me at each thrust now, sweat building up in between our chests as we pant into each others mouths with loose kisses.  We're both getting so close, I can feel it from the roaring throb of his cock rubbing against my stomach and the tightening of his muscles as he surrounds me.  I know all I'd have to do would be to touch his leaking cock and he'd come for me. 

A thought crosses my mind and I realize just how much power I have right at this moment.  Here I have possibly the most powerful person in the whole world, bent in my arms and shuddering as he tries to control his inevitable release.  And he's so strong, I can feel it with the secure way he's holding onto me with his toned thighs and hard grip on my shoulders.  He could probably crush me with very little effort if he so wished, but instead he's opened himself up for me, taking all of me in.  And it's with this thought of him laying out all that strength and power for _me_ that pushes me over the edge.   

I can't help it.  I'm coming, moaning his name out and I find his cock and it takes only a pull or two and he's meeting me with his own release.  He screams out, "Harry," in a sort of chant and it'll be something I'll remember for years.  Because my suspicions are correct—he is a screamer and nothing is more beautiful than my name on his lips. 

When we float back down from our high, I pull him into my arms and he turns, pressing his back up and against me.  We fall asleep like that, but he makes sure to say, "Not bad, Potter....but I'm fucking you next time." 

I laugh, kissing the back of his neck.  Then sleep takes us. 

 

* * *

 

It ends up being an odd sort of arrangement.  I continue on my daily life as if nothing significant has happened.  But it's hard to act that out when he's literally changed everything.  But given our situation, I can't tell anyone about him because there already was so much of a risk with me even knowing he's alive.  It was our own little secret—and something that would have to stay that way for...well, forever.   

But my friends can't help but to notice the spring in my step and the smile that just won't go away.  They suspect I'm seeing someone and they've cornered me a handful of times already, demanding I bring the guy or girl over for dinner one of these nights.  And really, oh how I wish it would be that simple.  How I could just bring Draco over for tea and tell them, 'Oh this is Draco.  He's sort of a hired assassin super wizard.  See, I'm not crazy after all!  He really is alive and he's a beast in the bedroom!' 

It's sort of funny, but when I seriously think about the long term effects this is going to have, I realize it's not.  I can't ever be seen with him as Draco, we have to live our relationship as a secret, and I'm never going to be able to confide in anyone about anything concerning him.  I'm going to have to lie permanently to my friends and I'm really not the best at lying.  It's a strain everyday.  And I can't even imagine what Draco's had to go through, having to lie about _everything_ since he's came back to London.  I don't know how he does it, putting on a different costume every day.  I think I'd lose my mind if I was expected to do the same. 

Which then brings me to another thing that's concerned me recently.  I don't know all the grimy details about the jobs that he has to perform.  I only see the before or after moments when he's at home.  Some days are better than others, like with anyone else's job.  But his "good" days and his "bad" days are vastly different from you or I.  His good days may consist of having to blackmail the old lady down the street, to saving an underage wizard that accidentally apparated onto a moving plane.  Whereas, his bad days he's coming home limping, covered in blood, or sporting a broken bone or two.  There have even been late nights where I've heard him dragging what sounded like a body up the stairs.  And I shudder to think what he's doing with all that. 

All the killing he has to do really makes me consider the morality of it all.  He's trapped into doing all these horrible deeds by some mystery woman for the Ministry.  I don't know the reason she has him kill, but I can't help but feel that this is all really wrong.  Sure, some criminals probably would be better to be killed off—but I still think everyone should have a fair trial.  To be doing what Draco is having to do...it just goes completely over the whole Auror department and taking justice into their own hands.  It really makes me wonder how many other people this lady is controlling—how many other assassins are out there doing her jobs. 

 I feel the call to action starting to stir within me.  The hero I've always been destined to play is wanting to come out once more.  It kills me to see Draco so torn into this role and how it's ultimately ruining his life.  I want to speak up, I want to confront this woman.  But at the same time, I don't want to put him into any danger of retaliation.  I want to insure his safety.   

But it all comes to a peak several weeks later when he stumbles into Grimmauld Place.  I hear his arrival and meet him at the entrance hall only to find him severely shaking and a large lash across his cheek.  He's got a black eye as well and he's holding his arm close to his chest.  He looks over his shoulder, back at the door in utter fear and I don't like that look at all.  I've only ever seen him that afraid on two other occasions:  in the Room of Requirement, and then later at his trial.   

"What is it?" I ask, tense.  My eyes flash to the locked doorway and then back to him.  I grip my wand tightly and am instantly on alert.   

He takes a step towards me and then falls.  I catch him in my arms and he winces.  I set him carefully in a small chair against the wall and finally his eyes lock onto mine.  "Harry..." He croaks out.   

"Yes?"  

"She...she knows I told you."  I feel my heart stall somewhere within my throat, my stomach lurching to the floor.  I feel a rush overtake me, and I'm seeing red.  If she's the reason he's like this right now...! 

"Harry," Draco calls to me again.  I look sharply at him, my nostrils flaring as I try to control my anger.  He reaches for my hand, grasping it tightly and that simple gesture slows my erractic breathing.  "Harry," he continues.  "We have to kill her..." 

From the tone of voice and the way he's looking at me now, I know there's no other way.  This has to be our only option.  If she's gone, she won't come after him again.  He can be truly free.  And perhaps in any other situation I'd prefer to take them in...but I have no idea what this woman is capable of, if she can reduce Draco to such a state.  So instead of arguing or considering any other option I ask the only thing I can think of in this moment.  "How?" 

He's silent for what seems like ages as he regards me with careful eyes.  I brace for the inevitable or perhaps the bad news that she's immortal and can't be killed or something of the sort.  It only makes sense that someone of that magnitude would make sure she didn't have a weakness.  But he surprises me with his next words, nonetheless. 

"The Elder Wand," he coughs, a little bit of blood coming up out of the corner of his mouth.   

I run a finger over the blood, cleaning him up.  He watches me carefully, waiting.  I nod once, waving my wand at his face to vanish the black eye.  "Well," I say, "It's a good thing I know where it's hidden now isn't it?" 

He gives me a relieved smile and that's all the answer I ever need. 


	5. Chapter 5

It's a day or two before we set out on our task.  Draco's told me that Grimmauld Place is safe given the strong wards, but the minute either of us leaves she'll have tracked us to our next location.  So we spend the time waiting and planning for the most opportune moment.  And when it's time, we dress fully in black from head to toe, my wand secure in a wrist holster for easier access.  We're standing in the hall and he pulls me into him, grey stormy eyes looking back at me.  "Ready?" He asks. 

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and lean into him and kiss him like it's going to be the last time.  He responds just as intensely, plunging his tongue inside and caressing mine.  It's a sweet kiss, and passionate and desperate all at the same time.  And we prolong it for as much as we can, till reluctantly we break away.  I nod and say, "I am now.  Let's go." 

He holds me tight and I feel the pull of apparation take us and in the next moment we are on Hogwarts grounds.  We know we have to be quick,  because not only are we being tracked, but surely even someone at the school has felt the intrusion upon the wards.  We want to do this before anyone can discover us and before she can even get here.  We run across the grounds to Dumbledore's tomb and pause once we've made it.  Draco nods to me and I pull out my wand.  I wave my hand swiftly, muttering " _Accio wand."_  

There's a moment of silence, while we wait with baited breath.  We're not sure if this is going to work, because the tomb has been locked up tighter than Azkaban.  And yes, perhaps Draco could destroy the whole thing and forcefully retrieve the wand himself.  But somehow he holds back, understanding the importance to keep the structure as undisturbed as possible.  We both hold so much respect for our Headmaster to dismantle his resting place. 

Then there's the grating sound of stone, as the tomb opens on its own.  The wand comes flying out a second later and into my waiting hands.  I stare at it in wonder, feeling the power of magic immediately setting the nerves of my hand on fire.  I caress the length, knowing that with this wand I could easily become as powerful as Draco.  I could change the world with one simple spell—I could do anything.  But just like it was after the War, it's the same even now.  All that power...it's not what I want.   

"Harry," Draco whispers, standing close to me.  I can vaguely hear him shifting the stone back into place and sealing it back up.  I turn to face him and his eyes look concerned.  "We have to get going.  She's just broken through Hogwarts." 

"Ok," I nod.  I wrap my arm around his waist, this time pulling him into me.  With the Elder Wand held tightly in my other hand it's me who apparates us next.  When we come to, we're standing in the woods in a far off place I haven't been in years.   

Draco takes in our new surroundings with surprise and then looks back at me with a smile.  "You did it," he observes.   

I chuckle, and the urge to kiss him is too strong.  I go with it and his lips smile along mine.  When we part I ask, "You doubted me?"   

He gives me a small smirk, an expression I've become quite fond of.  But the moment is broken a second later with the small sound of apparation near us that happens next.  Instinct takes hold and I grab Draco roughly and we hide behind a thick tree trunk.  Our eyes meet and we know now is the time.  Draco nods, bringing up one of his hands to run softly along my cheek. 

I hear a woman shout several feet away, "Draco Malfoy, I know you're here."  Then Draco kisses my neck softly before he moves out and around from the tree, to face her. 

"And here I thought you'd have gotten bored of following me around all the time," He calls back, the sarcasm seeped into every word.   

"You know the rules," she barks back.  I shift behind the tree, bracing for the moment to strike.  And somehow she must have sensed me because the next thing I hear is, "He's here with you, isn't he?  Now why would you do something so stupid, Draco?" 

"And why would you disregard him so quickly?  He killed the Dark Lord, y'know.  He could easily kill you too."  I'd never imagine Draco ever talking me up so highly, but things have changed and he honestly thinks I can do this.  Strange thing is, as I feel my magic pulled to life with the wand held tightly in my grasp, I'm starting to really believe him. 

Her laughter is shrill at his comment and sets me at unease.  "Bullshit, and you know it.  Harry Potter is old news and wouldn't even be relevant if I hadn't have you save him on more than eight different missions.  Now let's get to the matter at hand.  You know what you have to do, Draco, darling.  I'm afraid he knows too much.  Now's the time...go on." 

I look at Draco through a clearing in the bushes I'm now hiding in, and he's tensed at her words.  He's biting his lip in contemplation and I know the time is nearly there.  I'm just waiting for the signal before I take any action.  And sure enough, his eyes dart to mine so quickly it could be missed, but I see it easily.  I don't delay any longer. 

I leap out from my hiding spot, and sure enough I'm met with a blast of magic thrown my way instantly.  Draco's hands are raised and he's conjured a magical shield so large that it not only engulfs me but the tops of the trees surrounding me.  Her curse bounces off and singes a tree trunk, taking off all the bark with it.  I raise my own wand, pointing it at her—but that's when I hesitate. 

She's looking at me through the part of her long wavy red hair, and I'm stunned speechless.  Her green eyes meet mine and I can't help but stare back.  Those eyes look just like mine...my mother's.  I've never seen any other person possess such a color.  It just couldn't be a coincidence...could it? 

"Harry...just do it!"  Draco yells across from me.  My eyes move to him, but travel just as fast back to her.  I just can't believe the resemblance.  It's uncanny.  I mean, clearly she wasn't my mother.  I'd seen what my mother looked like in photographs...in the mirror of Erised.  But there was still something just oddly familiar about this woman.  I couldn't place it. 

She smiles at me, and I can't help but back up in alarm.  I hadn't seen that smile in years and it brought back memories of a time I hadn't thought of in so long.  "Oh, Draco...he's not going to kill me," she says, not even moving her eyes away from me.  "He couldn't possibly.  Can't you see?" 

"Shut the hell up," Draco growls, frustrated.  His anger is starting to take control of his magic, and his shield charm flickers before thickening in front of me.  "Harry...what are you waiting for?  Just do this so we can get out of here!" 

His words make me look at him once more and I see the desperation in his expression.  I'm reminded again why we are here and what we're supposed to be doing.  I have to do this, I have to set him free.  But when I look at her again, I falter once more.  I just can't do this.  I can't. 

"She just...she looks so much like _Ginny_ ," I let out a strangled sound.     

Her smile widens, and fuck it if that wasn't Ginny herself it had to have been her unknown sister or something.  Then her eyes shine for a second as she considers what to say next.  Her very green eyes look at me intently, pondering.  Then in her next breath she shatters my world, saying, "Well _we_ are family after all." 

I back up into a tree, trying to hold myself up.  Her words shock me to the core and my mind is reeling with this new information.  She's family?  She's related to Ginny?  Just who the hell does she think she is, using Draco in such a way and running an undercover agency set out to kill all sorts of people?  What the fuck is going on?! 

"Don't listen to her!" Draco shouts, running to my side.  He wraps an arm around my neck, pulling me close.  "Harry, she's just trying to fuck with you!  You can't possibly believe this all to be true, do you?!  She's just as good with the disguise act as me.  Don't think for a second she even looks like that!"  And I want to believe every word he says, I want this to just be some sort of deception, an unknown weakness she's exploited.  But when I look back at her I don't see the shimmer of a glamour, I don't see anything.  It's rather convincing. 

And while I'm considering my next move, she strikes once more.  She takes advantage of our distraction, and grasps the air in front of her.  Draco responds by clutching his throat and he's thrown back, taken completely off his feet and his head collides with a large boulder.  I stare at his limp form in horror and I'm pleading silently for him to move.  The few agonizing seconds I devote to staring at him drags on.  He doesn't move. 

"Well, come now Harry Potter.  If I'd have known you had the wand all this time, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.  Come on, give it to me," she requests, taking a couple steps closer to me.  I'm still behind Draco's shield—but with him out, I know it's not going to last much longer.  It's already starting to fade and I'm feeling sick.  I just want to go and check on him, to make sure he's all right.  But she's closing in on me and I'm going to have to do all that later.  I have to take care of her first. 

"What'd you do to him?" I growl, clenching the wand tightly within my fingers.  The wand responds almost greedily from the rage that's spilling out and sparks are flying from the tip.  If it burns my fingertips,  I don't even notice.   "I heard he was tortured...forced to become your weapon.  You control his whole life now, who he talks to and what he looks like.  Well I've got news for you, he's not going back to that anymore.  And if you take another step I will kill you.  I don't care who you are—I'm going to kill you." 

Whatever she was going to say next was lost, because the shield separating us evaporates and I crouch instantly, dodging a bolt of lightning she's thrown my way. I hurl a fire spell next.  Then what occurs next is a flurry of spellwork, mine muttered quickly through the wand—her's wandless and just that much quicker.  And even though I'm quite a bit older than when I faced the Dark Lord, I'm still just as agile and can dodge this way and that.   

But somehow during our fight she's effectively backed me into a corner.  I'm now in front of Draco's form, my back closing in on the rock that took his consciousness.  I know I'm going to have to kill her soon—but somehow my stupid principals are getting in the way.  I mean,  even when I killed Voldemort I never used the Killing Curse.  Somehow I just could never cast the spell.  Call it childhood trauma if you'd like, but I never wanted to use the spell that took my parents and so many other loved ones.  By using that spell, I'd be just like them.  And that's not me—it never will be. 

Then I hear the most beautiful sound break through my thoughts.  It's a cough.  Draco's coughed, and he's coming back and the relief that's flooding me is overpowering me.  The spell I was in the middle of casting goes off in a bright light, blinding her momentarily from the intensity of the emotions that have coursed through my magic.  And I take a quick second to look at him, his eyes meeting mine.  "Do it, Harry," he grunts.   

And I know what he wants me to do.  I know I have to do it.  Killing her is the only way we can get out of this alive ourselves.  And just as I'm readying myself to cast the infamous spell, Draco groans, "Disarm her...just do it Harry.." 

It doesn't make sense—disarming her.  She has no wand.  But I catch Draco go stiff in the corner of my eye and I don't care anymore.  This isn't what we talked about for the plan, but I don't hesitate any longer.  I point my wand.  My aim is perfect.  " _Expelliarmus!_ " 

She's thrown back across the forest clearing and she's wailing in intense agony.  I'm squinting cautiously at her shaking form, and then I hear a gruesome tearing noise.  The ripping causes her screams to escalate and I'm feeling sick to my stomach.  I see red—so much red covering her and in the deep gash that's carved into her arm comes out a wand.  It flies back to me, covered in blood and I catch it in alarm.  The wand is shorter than mine, but I feel the warmth of magic respond to me just as easily. 

Her crying dies to a dull whimper after a few minutes as she lay there, helpless.  Without her wand, I now know that she's no longer a threat.  Still, I stand cautiously and keep the Elder Wand pointed at her body.  I don't move to heal her, nor go in for the kill.  I wait a bit longer, not so much to prolong the pain but that's what I end up doing anyway.  I'm still in just so much shock as to what's happened. 

After awhile she gathers the strength to moan out, "Please, if you are going to kill me just do it..." 

I shake my head and realize that she can't see me from her position on the ground.  "No," I tell her.  And then I hear her sob, her body shuddering.  She's going into shock from the amount of blood she's lost and I know if I don't do anything soon, she will be dead.  I don't know what possesses me to do what I do next, except I act purely on instinct.  I secure her wand next to my own in my wrist holster.  I walk over to Draco and pull him into me.  Then we stumble over to her bloody form and I pick her up as well.   

Side-alonging one person can be difficult already, but adding another can be almost impossible.  The Elder Wand in my fingers allows me to apparate us easily enough.  And when we come to, we're stumbling into an empty hospital room.  I place both of them on the bed, my breath coming out erratically.  The next moment the doors burst open and I'm met with a familiar welcoming sight.  Hermione Granger-Weasley gasps, her jaw practically coming unhinged.  And yes, perhaps the sight would freak anyone out.   

But I'm thankful for my friend, and even more so when without another word she brushes urgently past me and tends to the bleeding wound that's tore even more so from the travel.  Her wand makes small quick movements over the sight of the injury and when she stops the bleeding on the woman's arm, she finally feels it's ok to move onto her next patient.   

She lifts Draco's head up, pushing his hair back so she can get a good look at the gash on his own head.  She retrieves some medicinal salve from a nearby cabinet and begins to rub it gently on his skin.  And she's surprisingly calm, or perhaps she hasn't realized who it is just yet.  But her duties of a Healer have always came first and any emotional responses come second.  It makes her the perfect woman for the job really.   

Then when they are both in a state of calm, she brings in another bed for Draco to lay in.  Both are in a comfortable sleep and it isn't till then that Hermione even talks to me.  We're out into the hallway, still within watch of the room before she turns to me and says, "Ok, spill." 

I tell her everything.  It takes quite a bit of time and my throat feels raw after the story.  But I feel a weight has lifted, and that perhaps after all that's happened things can start to make sense now.  We don't have to hide anymore.  It's going to work, after all.   

"So it really is him?" She asks, her warm brown eyes looking over at his sleeping body on the other side of the room.   

I nod, feeling a smile start to slowly form upon my lips.  But then her eyes move to the other sleeping person.  She looks critically at the woman, her lips pursed as she thinks.  I let her have a moment to consider what we should do now, because Hermione's always been the more clever one.  Then she walks over to her bed, and binds her arms and legs to the bed posts.  "Just an added precaution," she mumbles before going over to the sink.  She retrieves an empty vial and comes back with a sample of the woman's blood.   

"I'm going to run some tests," she tells me as she walks out of the room.  "I should be able to trace her magical signature and I'll have an identity for you in the morning."  I give her a quick hug before she makes her way to the lab down the hall.  Then I return to Draco's bedside and hold his hand the rest of the evening.  Even though the chair I fell asleep in was really uncomfortable, his pulse beneath my own had made up for it. 

But sleep doesn't last long, either way.  Because a few hours later, Hermione bursts back into the room and she's pulled me to my feet.  In the hall, she's pacing back and forth and it's driving me nuts.  I grab her arm and stop her and she's just too wound up.  "What is it?!" I can't help but ask, because I don't think I can wait another second. 

"She was...well..she's telling the truth.  About Ginny..." 

"Oh," I say simply, slumping against the wall.  So what did this mean?  Did Arthur and Molly have another child and just weren't aware?  Then, as if to answer my question Hermione cuts through. 

"She's Ginny's daughter," she confirms. 

"Daughter!?  What?  How is that even possible!?  They are practically the same age!"  I look back at the woman in question laying on the bed and she's still there, motionless.  "Plus, Ginny doesn't even have any kids!  Not yet anyway.  I think she'd have known..." 

"Harry, shut up!  I know it doesn't make any sense but that's not all.." 

"What now?" I ask, meeting her eyes once more.  She's biting her lip, holding back.  And I feel really nervous at her expression all of a sudden. 

"Well, when the tests came back...the father...was traced back to you." 

My legs give out, and I slide to the floor of the hospital.  My mind is reeling and I just don't know what is going on, what is reality and what is a dream.  There would be no way anything like this could exist.  Ginny and I were history and hadn't been together in quite some time.  It wasn't physically possible for her to have a child that would be roughly our same age now.   

Unless... 

"Harry," Hermione's voice travels to me from within the room.  I get up off the floor and see her hovering over the girl.  She's pulled out a necklace that was concealed underneath the neckline of her shirt, and I see the familiar rounded pendant.  Hermione unclasps it from the woman's neck and brings it over and sure enough, it looks exactly like the one she had back in third year. 

"I thought they were all destroyed," she says, tilting the Time Turner this way and that.  The mechanism doesn't spin though, and it's clear it is stuck.  "She can't go back," she says, examining the piece closer. 

"It's because she doesn't exist in the future anymore..." I say without really even thinking.  Then I look back at the woman, my daughter supposedly, and my chest seizes up.  I take in her appearance and it all makes sense.  I've thought of kids at one point a long time ago, and when I dreamed about them they would have very much looked like her.  I would have even named her after my mother, or my friend Luna—I was still debating on that one.  And now here she was, proof that I could have lived that life.  I could have had the kids and family I always wanted. 

"Harry?" Hermione asks, coming over to me and reaching for my arm.   

I side step her without thinking and shake my head.  "Sorry," I say.  "I think I just...need to think about all this..."  And then I'm turning away from them, walking out of the room.  The whole situation is just overwhelming and I need to get away. 

"What do you want me to say to Draco when he wakes up?" She asks, coming out of the hall after me. 

I frown, not even considering what to do about that.  "I don't know," I say, because my mind is fogging up, and it's making it hard for me to concentrate.  I have to leave now, to sort through this on my own.  I can't believe any of this is actually happening, and I'm desperate for this escape.  I don't delay a moment later, pulling the Elder Wand with me I apparate out of the hospital.   

When I come to, I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and facing the ocean.  The only sounds I hear are the crashing of the waves upon the rocks below.  I inhale,  taking in the fresh smell of saltwater and rain from the clouds above.  Finally I feel like I can breathe once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written over the course of a few sleepless nights, so if it reads a little strange I apologize. Also, clearly it's not finished. There will be more and possibly an epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a work in progress, but mostly written. I wanted to go ahead and post the first chapter to hopefully get me in gear to finish this. It won't be a long story, perhaps only 5 or so chapters. Thanks for taking the time to read!


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